


thin floors and tall ceilings

by porcelainsalt (bluedreaming)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: writetomyheart, Established Relationship, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24888115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/porcelainsalt
Summary: They sit there in the dimness of the room, listening to the looping theme song playing on low volume. Despite all the things they still need to think about, the decisions they’ll need to make, Harry feels completely content. “We’ll always have this,” he says. “No matter what.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29
Collections: write to my heart





	thin floors and tall ceilings

**Author's Note:**

> I started this story back in August, 2018, and have written it in sections for the [writetomyheart](https://writetomyheart.livejournal.com) shiritori writing game on LJ/DW/discord. It’s been a bit!
> 
> Thanks to [miyeokguk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyeokguk) for all the brainstorming help and fun back in August 2018 (though I’m afraid I’m sure I’ve gone completely off track by now)!
> 
> Thank you as well to [randoyoyo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randoyoyo) for beta-ing this for me; after so long and being written piecemeal, an extra pair of eyes was very much appreciated.
> 
> Thank you as well to [jocundasykes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jocundasykes) for advice regarding canon questions. This fic is also somewhat au in that the technology doesn’t match up with the canon timeline.
> 
> Finally, a wider thank you to the [drarry discord](https://poxei.tumblr.com/post/633399975146094592) server in general for being such a positive place—I’ve been encouraged to write more for this fandom.

“Saving them for anything?” Harry asks, pointing at the doughnuts sitting in the paper sack on the counter as he shuts the door of the flat behind him. They smell delicious with the richness of sugar and dough, and after a long and disappointingly sugar-free afternoon at the library, the perfect pick-me-up.

Draco’s head bobs up, startled, and there's something embarrassed in the way his eyes widen as he clicks the mouse. “I didn't hear you come in,” he says.

Harry pretends he doesn't know that Draco was watching kitten videos on YouTube. Right now, kitten videos on YouTube sound undeniably appealing. Right after the doughnuts.

“I didn't mean to surprise you,” Harry says. “It's just been a long afternoon. Now that the coffee shop at the library is closed, I can't even get coffee.”

Draco wrinkles his forehead in thought, and Harry can't help but feel affection softening the day’s disgruntlement. “Isn’t there a coffee shop just down the street?”

“Yes but that's too far away, and I can't just pop over while I leave my books,” Harry complains, dropping onto the stool next to Draco. The countertop is cool beneath his cheek and he just lies there a moment, breathing in the doughnut deliciousness.

Draco’s probably got one eyebrow raised in disbelief, but Harry doesn't care. There's the sound of paper rustling, and something sticky touches his face.

“Here,” Draco says, and Harry lifts his head to take the doughnut, probably double chocolate by appearance. He takes a bite, then reconsiders.

“Do you want half?” he asks. Draco shakes his head and grins as he pulls out a second doughnut.

“I have a whole one to myself.”

Harry just laughs, biting into the sweet doughy texture and sighing in satisfaction. There's only the sound of chewing for a minute or two, just long enough to be left with sticky fingers.

“When did you go out?” Harry asks, tempted to lick his fingers but valiantly resisting. He’ll save it for a day when annoying Draco will be of some strategic value. Draco will be proud.

Draco stands and steps over to the kitchen sink, moistening a napkin under the faucet before tossing it back for Harry to catch. The sound of the water running muffles his reply, but Harry can still make out the words.

“I got another swift post from the solicitor.” The water cuts off with the turn of the faucet, and Draco busies himself drying his hands, but Harry can still see how tightly he holds his jaw as he tries to keep the emotions off his face.

“Did you hear from—” he begins, but Draco waves a hand in the air, cutting off his question. They both already know the answer anyway.

“Mother insists she’s well enough,” Draco says. The way he crumples the paper doughnut sack belies his tone. The sack goes into the recycling bin and Harry reaches for Draco as he steps past, pulling him close. Draco holds himself stiffly for a moment, before slumping on Harry’s shoulder.

“If you want to go home,” Harry says, but he doesn't finish the sentence. He knows Draco’s answer.

“I just need a little more time,” Draco sighs into Harry’s messy hair. “I haven't been letting things slide.” His voice rises the smallest bit at the end, something that not many people would catch, but Harry is one of them.

“You know you haven't been,” he reassures Draco, pulling him closer and wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist. His mouth is still sweet from the doughnut. If a walk to the doughnut shop and a kitten video marathon have made Draco feel even a little bit better, then Harry doesn't want to think about how he must have been feeling earlier.

“I know,” Draco says, and hugs back before gently disengaging himself from Harry’s arms. “Thanks for reminding me again.” Then he cuts through the seriousness of the moment by nudging Harry with a sharp elbow, before dashing to the couch.

“Hey!” Harry shouts after him in mock disgust. “It's my turn to pick a show!”

“Later,” Draco says, consonants muffled as he presses buttons on the remote. For all that Harry should supposedly be better at these things, Draco has taken to technology like a child in a candy shop. But then again, he seems to find delight in reading the instruction manuals that Harry is used to having seen Dudley disregard, their dense wording not unlike the textbooks he still remembers from Hogwarts.

“Alright then,” he relents, settling onto the cushions next to Draco and pulling a blanket off the arm to tuck over their legs. ”What are we watching?” It’s been longer than Harry would have liked since he has had a chance to sit down and watch something with Draco. Sure, he had a paper and mid-terms, but today’s Hermione would say that’s no excuse to bury himself in studying. Draco has just as much coursework, after all.

“I've been waiting to watch this with you,” Draco says, the grin on his face further supporting Harry’s decision to take an evening off from studying.

“It’s not some documentary on advanced chemistry, is it?” Harry asks. Draco and Netflix have been a dangerous combination from the start.

“You’ll see,” Draco says, moving through screens so quickly that Harry doesn't have a chance to read the name of whatever they're watching.

Throughout the bewildering first episode of _Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency_ , Draco doesn't stop laughing. Harry is happy, but also wants to punch him.

“I don't know what I just watched,” he says when it’s over.

“I wish I’d had this—” Draco begins, before stopping abruptly, tucking his chin into the folds on the blanket and covering his mouth.

“Yeah,” Harry says. He doesn't need to hear the end of the sentence. ”Me too.” He leans over a bit further, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder. The long line of his arm is warmed as it lies along Draco’s side.

“We have it now, ” Draco murmurs into his hair, warm breath tickling the skin of Harry’s ear. They sit there in the dimness of the room, listening to the looping theme song playing on low volume. Despite all the things they still need to think about, the decisions they’ll need to make, Harry feels completely content.

“We’ll always have this,” he says. ”No matter what.”

* * *

“We have this,” Draco reminds himself, thinking of their conversation yesterday. It's not that he's dependant on Harry, but it's easier to remember that he's not in this alone when there's someone else sharing the same space with him. Someone who _knows_ him.

There's a fluttering sound from somewhere above him, and Draco stiffens, instinctively looking up. It's just a pigeon though, not another swift bearing yet another message. He can't help glancing around, but if anyone noticed his reaction, they aren't looking at him now. It's perfectly reasonable to be wary of birds anyway, what with the way they seem to leave droppings wherever they please.

The sidewalks here always seem so empty compared to Diagon Alley or even London in general. Draco still feels a tiny spark of delight as he stops in front of a bookshop window to peer at the display, no risk of being jostled. He doesn't have a reason to be here today, but his readings and assignments are all already done as usual, and he’s been thinking about the coffee shop Harry mentioned yesterday, or rather, the lack thereof. Harry has classes right now, so there's no risk of running into him. Not that it matters, but something about this is making Draco feel warmly secretive.

Once he's through the revolving doors of the city library, the space where a coffee shop used to be is indeed a sad sight. The foyer is defined by the empty counter and dusty food display. It’s no surprise that it makes Draco feel a little hollow, but the loneliness sticks anyway. It was pretty much a done deal from the start, even before he knew it.

Sitting at one of the study tables positioned alongside the reading steps of the library proper, Draco pens a letter to his solicitor for a change. He can already anticipate the arguments that will soon be heading his way, and he's quite looking forward to them.

* * *

Neither his solicitor nor his financial advisor can understand his decision, but they aren't outright obstructive, and that's plenty for Draco. While the family holdings and estates are centred at the Wiltshire Manor, with other estates mostly in France and neighbouring countries, it's not unheard of for families to have one or two outliers. A coffee shop is practically an office, anyway.

“Oh, and one other thing,” Draco says, as their conversation comes to a close. Parry’s face flickers chartreuse, before settling back to kelly green as he nods, ears flapping solemnly. Draco knows that from the head house-elf’s perspective, he's not much more than a wailing infant in nappies, but Parry is always polite and helpful about everything. Draco’s pretty sure that Parry is the one who’s been holding everything together for the last handful of generations, even if Parry would firmly differ.

“Yes, Mister Draco?” Parry still says his name so carefully, exactly as he requested in the summer before he and Harry enrolled in university. It's one of the small things in this new patch-worked life that holds Draco up. It's a compromise from the traditional “Master Malfoy,” and Draco feels like he can begin to breathe into the shape of this thing that's his life.

Draco can't remember what he was going to say, but it doesn't matter. He knows the shape of the feeling in his mouth. “Thank you,” he says, and it's enough.

* * *

“Is that a doughnut?” Hermione exclaims. Guiltily, Draco tucks it back into the paper sack, half-finished, and wipes his sticky fingers on the napkin.

“I apologise —,” he begins, but Hermione waves him off. The frame rate on the screen flickers with the quick motion of her hand. It’s strange, Draco thinks, comparing it to the hue of Floo powder flaring green in a fire. More convenient, though. Their flat doesn’t even have a fireplace, just a makeshift brazier that he uses for unavoidable conversations.

“No, no,” she interrupts, leaning towards her camera. “Harry was raving about this doughnut shop you have there, so I’m curious.” She grins, and Draco smiles back. There are so many good things about his life now, and Hermione’s friendship is one of them.

“I’ll have to send you some,” he says, considering. Perhaps if he puts them under stasis and then sends them by swift?

“Or,” Hermione says, breaking into his side-tracked train of thought, “I was thinking of popping over for a visit now that I’m wrapping up this project.” She waves her hand at the scrolls of parchment heaped up on one side of her desk, and the stack of books threatening to tumble off the other. “I’ve always wanted to take the inter-continental train.”

Draco can’t help but feel his heart leap at the chance to show Hermione around their part of the city; share a little of the place he’s somehow learned to call home. He’ll miss it—He shuts that thought down and refocuses on the screen.

“I do have a little surprise I’m working on, for which I might like your input,” he says, laughing when Hermione’s metaphorical ears perk up.

“Done,” Hermione says, nodding. “I’ll see about next weekend, I think. Does that work?”

Draco mentally scrolls through their exam schedules, but can’t think of any conflicts. “I’ll have to double-check with Harry, but I think that will work.” He pauses, looking again at all the reference material, and the documents on his screen next to the video chat.

“Thank you again for letting me monopolise your thesis project with this family magic study,” he says, trying not to fumble with the words. It’s difficult to express how much working together with Hermione has helped, deconstructing the whole bulwark of the pureblood understanding of family magic, and rebuilding it into something that will let him move forward. They’ve managed to piece together an Arithmancy-based core of the traditions and practices while separating them from all their supremacist and discriminatory trappings.

Hermione’s gaze goes soft, but her answering smile is wide. “I may have been helping you out,” she says, “But this research has also gotten me a research fellowship, so I’ve you to thank just as much.”

* * *

Regardless, or perhaps despite, Parry’s polite scepticism of Draco’s plans, the head house-elf has sent Ceri over to assist him in setting up, “and running daily operations,” Ceri adds, bustling around the space. Ceri is quite a tall house-elf and ruthlessly efficient. Draco finds himself almost bemused at how quickly he finds himself relegated to assistant. He suspects that Parry may have been glad, after all, to have a position like this open up: Ceri certainly seems to be an aspiring head house-elf candidate.

“Everything is in hand,” Ceri replies politely, after the third time Draco tries to offer some advice about the fact that the coffee shop will be serving primarily non-magical customers. Draco has to admit that he’s probably less knowledgeable about this than Ceri, and reassures himself that if Parry thinks Ceri won’t stand out to non-magical customers, then Parry is perhaps correct. Their opening, more understated than grand, is on track for tomorrow.

A thermos of coffee in hand, Draco retreats through the magnetised doorway into the library proper, wandering towards the children’s story area for a moment, before curving away towards the study tables that line the massive concrete staircase along the far wall. Both he and Harry like to spread their books out on these tables, looking out over other library patrons studying on the steps below, or outside the wall of glass to the city beyond. Draco doesn’t have his textbooks with him right now since he thought he would be busier with the coffee shop preparations, so he pulls out his mobile and headphones. It’s been a few days since he’s enjoyed kitten videos.

* * *

Harry sighs, rummaging idly through his papers though he’s not getting any studying done and he knows it. The library just isn’t the same without a coffee shop—he’s inevitably finished drinking the thermos he brings with him before he’s properly into the flow of things, and the café further down the road, while pleasant enough, is too far for a quick jog. Regretfully, he tucks the empty thermos back into his rucksack.

Harry is half-way down the next page when his mobile buzzes in his pocket. He glances around, but there’s no one sitting at his table, and the people on the steps above and below him seem to be occupied. Reaching into his rucksack for his wand, a quick Muffliato is enough to avoid disturbing anyone.

“Draco?” he says, answering. “Is something up?” Draco doesn’t usually call—he prefers video messages. While he insists it’s because texting is tiresome, Harry’s pretty sure he just likes seeing Harry’s face. The loose papers tucked between the pages of his textbook crinkle as he flips the pages, waiting for Draco’s response.

“I stopped at the university to pick up a book, so I thought I might as well see if you’re at the library.” Draco sounds like he’s trying to suppress excitement. Either that, or something has upset him, but they’re better at communicating then they used to be. Harry is immediately suspicious.

“Right,” he says, wishing Draco was on the screen so he could see his expression. “So you want me to come to the foyer to meet you?”

“Yes, please, I’ll be there shortly.”

Draco ends the call before Harry’s even had a chance to ask for more details. He stares at his phone in passing offence before gathering his things together and ending the silencing spell. He’s not sure what Draco’s up to, but it’s not like he’s going to get any more studying done here anyway.

* * *

“Draco, you didn’t,” Harry begins, laughing as he stands in front of the newly opened coffee shop in the library foyer. “And is that—?”

He gestures at the barista working behind the counter, name tag _Ceri_ clipped to a smart purple apron. Ceri nods in acknowledgement and continues to keep abreast of the short queue of customers with almost terrifying capability.

“Shh, don’t be a nuisance,” Draco says, grinning as he leans over to drape himself over Harry’s shoulder. He’s warm and familiar, though definitely more pointy-elbowed than soft. Harry doesn’t mind.

“But won’t people notice?” he asks, glancing around the foyer. The next customer steps up to the till, placing an order and paying with their mobile. Nothing hisses, explodes, or sparks, and the customer doesn’t even blink.

“House-elf magic,” Draco says, waving as though that explains everything. “We don’t understand much about it, and Ceri is very capable.”

“Uh-huh,” Harry says, taking a sip of his coffee, perfectly brewed of course. Draco is infuriatingly perfect, and— “Wait, is this a gift for me or a project to impress Hermione?”

“Can’t something be both?” Draco retorts, giving him a gentle nudge in the shoulder. “You were right; this library needs a coffee shop.”

“And doughnuts,” Harry adds, trying and failing to nick a maple-walnut-glaze from Draco’s paper sack.

“Hey!” Draco protests. “Leave my doughnuts alone. If you want some, go wait with everyone else.” He waves at the queue and only laughs when Harry grumbles.

“It’s my coffee shop present,” Harry calls over his shoulder as he takes his place behind the last customer. Draco is leaning against the wall next to a book display case, primly wiping his fingers on a serviette.

“It’s my coffee shop,” he says and pops the last bite of doughnut into his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this story is from a song by ODESZA of the [same name](https://open.spotify.com/track/1zyMwU1NtRDkuQWthUbGsL?si=w4SVMwSYSXKYXfmdan29yA).
> 
> Originally posted in pieces for shiritori. [First part](https://writetomyheart.livejournal.com/841417.html). (Others are linked.)
> 
> My [Blanket Statement](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5678194).


End file.
